Blood Red Roses Pt. 3
by morgan1
Summary: Sequel to 'He's on the Phone'. Strange things begin to happen in Wesley's hotel..


Title: Blood Red Roses (sequel to He's On The Phone, which is archived at Wesleyan Aria and So Classy if you're interested.) 

Author: Mary-Jane Roebuck

Feedback: No flames, please - they scare me. If you don't like the idea of Cordy & Wesley as a couple, please don't read this fic. 

Rating: NC-17 for implied violence and non-consensual sex.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss, the WB, Mutant Enemy and multiple other entities. Interpretation of the characters is entirely my own. 

Spoilers: Set after the end of 'Angel' season 1. For the purposes of this story, Angel Investigations is operational, but at a different (temporary) location. 

Summary: Wesley has returned to the UK, heartbroken after being rejected by Cordy. But he doesn't know that she's been kidnapped...

Thanks to: All the lovely people who have given me feedback so far. 

Note: I stole the title from one of the 7:84 Theatre Company's 1970s productions. 

  
  


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When Angel returned to his temporary base, he was surprised by two things. The first was that Cordelia hadn't so much as left a message on the answerphone. The second was that Wesley had. There was also a note in Wesley's small, neat handwriting explaining that he'd been forced to return to the UK suddenly due to family circumstances, and asking Angel to look after his belongings. There was no forwarding address, just a promise to make contact in the near future. Angel dialled Cordelia's number, hoping she might be able to shed some light on the situation. After twenty rings or so, her answerphone kicked in. Angel wondered what on earth was going on. I leave town for three days, he thought, and both of my employees disappear. He put his coat back on, and headed for Cordelia's apartment. 

  
  


Wesley had wanted with all his heart to ring Cordelia. He still had a nagging feeling that something wasn't right, but every time the thought entered his head, he told himself that he had to face the facts, and he started down the familiar path of self-recrimination yet again. She rejected you, plain and simple. She saw you for what you really are. You can't blame her for not wanting to know you; who would? 

  
  


He'd just have to learn to live with it somehow. 'Somehow' being the operative word. Since his return to London - which was bang in the middle of 'tourist hell' season - he'd spent most nights wandering around Soho drinking himself into a stupor. It was now the early morning after one of those nights, and he'd got to the belligerent stage of drunkenness. He was going to phone Cordelia Chase and tell her exactly what he thought of her. He vaguely realised that it would be about 1am in LA, but he dialled her number nevertheless. After several rings, a man's voice answered.  


She's found someone else. Someone new, Wesley corrected himself. For him to be someone else, I'd have had to be something special to her and I never was. The whole thing was a total non-starter. 

  
  


He was startled out of his reflections by the voice saying "Hello? Hello? This is Cordelia Chase's phone." 

"Angel?" 

"Wesley?" Angel was simultaneously relieved and irritated. At least Wesley was still on the face of the earth. It appeared that this wasn't the case with Cordelia. 

Wesley thought he might as well finish what he'd started, and slurred "Is Cordelia there?" 

"No, she isn't. And by the look of it, she hasn't been here for several days." 

So, Wesley thought, she hooked up with someone new AND left town as soon as she'd turned me down. That made sense. 

"Angel, I'm sorry to leave town like I did, but I had no other option." 

"Family stuff. You've got to do what you've .. got to do. It's okay. I understand." 

Wesley took a deep breath. "No, I don't think you do." 

The other end of the line briefly went silent and Wesley wondered if he had offended Angel somehow. Then the vampire spoke again. 

"Wesley, when was the last time you spoke to Cordelia?" 

"Four days ago, just before I left." 

"She didn't seem .. she wasn't behaving oddly in any way?" 

"Why do you ask?" 

"She was?" 

"We .. had a disagreement. She said some unkind things to me."

"More unkind than usual?" 

"Much more unkind ... you think Cordelia's unkind to me as a matter of course?" 

"I think she sometimes says things which you take as criticism, when she's just being .. her usual self. Saying Cordelia isn't big on tact is like saying that you're British. It's just a part of who she is. You shouldn't take it so seriously." 

Wesley remembered his last conversation with Cordelia. He found it hard to stop himself from choking up. The only word he could force out was "Oh." 

"Wesley, did your leaving have anything to do with the argument you had with Cordelia?" 

Hearing the concern in Angel's voice almost made Wesley choke up even more. He considered confiding in Angel, but the whole story of his argument with Cordelia was so humiliating and painful that he didn't want to relate it to anyone, even Angel. 

"Angel, I have some .. as Americans would say. 'issues' to resolve with my family. I appreciate your concern, but..."

"You don't want to talk about it?" 

"Not just now, no." 

"Okay, then, do you think you'll be able to get back to LA any time soon?" 

Angel's voice sounded neutral, but Wesley could tell that he was trying to hide something. 

"I could only afford a one-way ticket." 

"I can wire you some money, it's no problem." 

"Angel .. I can't see why you'd want me to come back to Los Angeles so quickly unless there was something very wrong. Is it .. something to do with Cordelia?" Wesley wasn't sure that he wanted to hear the answer. 

"You haven't heard from her. Neither have I. Her apartment is in chaos, and it doesn't look like she just packed up and left. Either she's been abducted, or she's run off on her own. Given our line of work, I'd say the first was more likely. And.." Wesley heard the hesitation in Angel's voice, as though he didn't quite believe what he was about to say. 

"And?"

"Something pretty strange happened in her apartment. I think that some kind of demon was here." 

"What kind of evidence do you have?" 

"Nothing physical. That's why I need you to do some research. Whoever it was, they caused some kind of disruption to the normal world. There's some kind of .. I don't know what to call it .. psychic energy left behind." 

"As a vampire, you can sense that kind of thing. But what does it mean?" 

"It means that a battle went on. A battle between two types of consciousness. It's something I've only seen once before, a long time ago, and if it's a sign of who I think it is, then Cordelia is in a lot of danger." 

Wesley dug his fingernails into his palms, re-opening the wounds from the rose thorns. I turn my back for a minute, and something like this happens, he thought. 

He forced out the words "Angel, send me the money. I'll get back to LA as soon as I can." Then he hung up. He needed some sleep. It wouldn't solve anything, but it was cheaper and easier than getting another drink. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

  
  


Cordelia's head hurt even worse than it usually did after a vision. The vision had been so incoherent - it involved a lot of screaming in a very dark place, but nothing else which made sense - that just thinking about it made her head hurt even more. 

  
  


Then she was hit by another kind of pain. She tried and failed to move her legs, and realised with a shock that she'd been chained to something - a radiator. She managed to manoeuvre herself into the light so that she could examine the damage. She stared at her legs in horror. They were covered in bruises and sores, and she didn't dare touch them to see how recently the injuries had been inflicted. And there was another kind of pain, too ... She put her hand between her legs, praying that the pain meant nothing, but her hand came back covered in blood, confirming her worst fears. 

  
  


She began to cry as the thoughts crowded into her head: What did they do to me? What have I done, why did I deserve this? 

And then she realised that what had just gone through her head hadn't been a vision, but a memory. 

  
  


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End file.
